Gosei Student Connects to His Roots Through Aikido

This year, the Aikido Center of Los Angeles celebrates its 50th anniversary with a gala event on Saturday, Oct. 19, at Nishi Hongwanji Buddhist Temple's Kaikan.

Tickets for the event are available to the public and will include cocktail hour at 5 p.m., silent auction, bento dinner at 6 p.m, performances by Kansuma Kai dancers, L.A. Taiko Collective, calligraphy by Kuniharu Yoshida, and of course aikido and iaido demonstrations. Go to:

In 1974, Rev. Kensho Furuya opened his first dojo in Hollywood called Aikido Renbukai. He shared the dojo space jointly with a gymnastics school, but he dreamed of opening a dojo like Hombu Dojo in Japan that was strictly focused on teaching aikido and offered classes seven days a week.

In 1984, Furuya Sensei realized his dream by establishing the Aikido Center of Los Angeles in a loft located in Little Tokyo, Downtown Los Angeles.

In 1999, I graduated college and moved back in with my mom in Pasadena. For a kid who would become a 4th dan in aikido, these are inauspicious origins, but I was an aspiring filmmaker on a shoestring budget, so it seemed pragmatic.

By day, I was picking up gigs as a camera assistant on short films, and by night, I was looking for something that kept my body moving. I'd been a three-sport athlete in high school, but blew my ACL in senior year, so I knew my glory days were behind me, but wanted to stay physically active.

I decided to try a martial art. Funny enough, my mom wanted to as well, so we agreed to find something together.

We went to Nisei Week that year, and saw several demonstrations, but the one that seeped into my very core was by Rev. Kensho Furuya Sensei from the Aikido Center of Los Angeles. It's hard to explain, but Furuya was a big man, and I didn't know big guys could move like that. He practiced with such grace and humor, while at the same time taking the art very, very seriously. It felt spiritual and martial. My mom and I were both intrigued.

So yes, the first time I went down to Furuya Sensei's dojo, I went ... with my mama. We were both impressed by the space, built in the style of a samurai mansion. But also by the warm-up. It was silent. I'd never experienced a workout so quiet. Everyone was focused. Intense. But relaxed. My mom and I signed up that day.

At that point, the dojo was half as old as it is now, but it was infused with the Japanese heritage and history with which I'd yearned to connect. Furuya Sensei didn't teach every class. But he dedicated his whole life to aikido, and lived on the second floor of the dojo, so I saw him every time I practiced, which was soon several days a week.

And when Furuya Sensei did teach, it was an ineffable kind of special. There was an electric charge in the air when we heard him descending the stairs to teach. He had an imposing presence. I both wanted to impress him, and was scared to attract his attention. He made the practice look easy, yet there was a deadly seriousness to him that made me sit up straighter and watch more closely than I ever had anywhere else.

I always felt as if I might get hit on the back of the head for screwing up (I never did) and that if I did, I'd have deserved it. Furuya Sensei embodied tough love.

For five years, I practiced hard: rolling, throwing, pinning, learning to negotiate all varieties of attacks. I was engrossed by the depth and sophistication of the art. And then in 2004, a couple of armed gang members jumped me on the street, late at night in mid-city — one with a tire iron, one with a knife. I believe they thought I was an easy target.

But I was trained enough to be calm and clear in the moment. My body's muscle memory kicked in, naturally controlling the timing and spacing of the attack. I evaded a blow to my head using a tenshin (fading back) movement I had practiced hundreds of times. I escaped with my life, untouched and uninjured.

Days later, when I told Sensei about it, he said simply: "Aikido saved your life." I agree.

Furuya Sensei died the year my first daughter was born. 17 years ago. I wasn't there when he passed. But I'm told he died teaching and he died laughing. We should all be so lucky to take our last breath while practicing what we love with that kind of joy.

It was shocking — I had assumed I was going to be able to learn from my teacher for a lifetime. I guess that's what they mean by someone being "larger than life." I thought Furuya was bigger than the confines of mortality. And in some ways, he was.

Furuya Sensei's students have carried on his legacy and we've now reached 50 years. It has been a circuitous journey as we figure out how to keep the dojo going without literally living there, as Furuya had done. Though it seems at times we are still grieving him, it is clear in our 50th year that David Ito Sensei is the teacher for this moment.

Ito Sensei has the mastery of aikido passed down to him from Furuya, and he is also a gifted pedagogue, who is intuitive and tailors his approach to each student. He nurtures students young and old by understanding how they learn. It is no longer a one-approach-fits-all approach to aikido.

Ito Sensei is leading ACLA into an era that retains the traditions of aikido, but stretches the formal boundaries to create a more inclusive environment for all people who are drawn to the art.

In my opinion, one of Ito Sensei's great accomplishments has been upholding the high standards of our teacher while also creating a more egalitarian and welcoming space for students.

For a little while, my young daughters were practicing. The dojo is a place where they connect to their culture. They help clean the space a few times a year. They look forward to helping with mochitsuki and Obon. When I watch them find the love for their heritage that I discovered in this community, I am excited to see where Ito Sensei leads the next generation as we enter these next 50 years.